Jersey Shore to North Shore: Timestamps and Postcards
by bgharison
Summary: Epilogues, timestamps, and postscripts to the Jersey (Steve/Jax) series: A Little Piece of Jersey, Bits and Pieces of Jersey; To The Gates of Hell and New Jersey; Jersey Shore to North Shore: The Long Way Home.
1. Chapter 1

Epilogues, timestamps, and postscripts to the Jersey (Steve/Jax) series: A Little Piece of Jersey, Bits and Pieces of Jersey; To The Gates of Hell and New Jersey; Jersey Shore to North Shore: The Long Way Home.

I am beyond honored to still receive requests and encouragement for more! of Steve and Jax. Thank you for embracing this little one-shot turned AU which took on a life of its own. You are the most amazing readers and your enthusiasm and kindness makes my day, over and over again. It wasn't my intention to abandon you, or this series, but writer's block respects no one's intentions.

There are so many bits and pieces of the story still to tell - missing pieces that didn't make the original cut - chapters that seemed too self-indulgent to include - the descriptive bits that didn't seem to further the plot. And then, so many of you want to know more about Jax's parents . . . who teaches the twins to drive (oh my) . . . what becomes of Doris? and Joe? and I'm curious about all of those things, too.

I can only hope that those of you who were still interested are . . . well, still interested. Drop me a line and let me know if you want more . . . or, you know. I'll stop here.


	2. Timestamp A Little Piece of Jersey Ch 28

Way, waaaaay back in August, I had a lovely request in my inbox for a "Steve having some sort of run-of-the-mill sickness, like the flu or bronchitis or something? (pref. in the Steve/Jax universe" and, well, here we are three months later . . . the muse has been infuriatingly uncooperative, and I'm still shaking off the rust.

This is part of the Tenacious Men series, but it's part of the Jersey universe and will probably only make sense if you're familiar with that context.

Timestamp for A Little Piece of Jersey, set after Chapter 28 Court Day and before Chapter 29 Jade. Jax has recently unpacked her few belongings from Jersey and officially lives with Steve, but still works for HPD SWAT.

*#*#*#*

 _Biological warfare._

That was the only logical explanation. His throat was on fire, his eyes felt like they were bleeding. His ears were alternately clogging and popping - wait. Concussion grenade? He did ache, all over, could be from a massive impact - an ungodly pain that made his muscles twitch restlessly, fruitlessly seeking comfort and relief in movement. He tried to take a deep breath, and pain flared in his lungs. Bad. This was bad, whatever it was. He needed to find Jax, find the rest of the team. Gathering all of his will, he forced his eyes open. At first, the light was blinding, and he swallowed, painfully, against a wave of nausea, waiting for his eyes to adjust so he could determine his surroundings.

He was in his bedroom.

Nothing made sense.

He reached for Jax, her presence in his bed recent, and welcome, and already nothing was right if she wasn't there. Her side of the bed was cool.

"Hey, you with me?"

Jax's voice was soft, concerned. He tried turning his head in the vague direction of the sound, his eyes struggling to refocus. She was moving toward him, from the bathroom, a folded washcloth in hand.

"Wass'matter?" he rasped. "We get - hit? You - okay?"

"Hmm, I'm fine," she said. The washcloth was pressed against his forehead and it felt wonderful. "You, though, were restless all night, and you're burning up. Let me check your leg. It should be healed, but you might have an infection."

"Not - concussion grenade?"

"No, there was no concussion grenade." She untangled the sheets from his legs, and then her cool fingers were tracing over the wound from the fiasco of Gracie's field trip turned hostage situation. "Your leg looks absolutely fine, no infection. It's not that. I - I think maybe you have the flu."

"I don' get flu."

"Steve. Everyone, eventually, gets the flu."

He processed that for a moment. "Nev'r had a domestic flu," he amended. He closed his eyes. Things were definitely better with his eyes closed.

"Of course not, you're a Navy SEAL."

He liked the way she said that, with the slight emphasis on Navy. Like Danny. Must be a Jersey thing. He could listen to her rant all day. Every day. Forever. In fact, she was still going now.

" . . . have to be something exotic, right? But I think, in this case, you've succumbed to a garden variety virus, homegrown right here on Oahu. I'm sorry."

He reached out, aimless, and fumbled for her hand. She met him halfway. Her hand was so small, and blessedly cool, wrapped in his.

"Gimme a minute, I'll ge' dressed," he said. "Bring me Motrin?"

"You are not going to work!"

"Thought . . . drive me to th' hospital." His voice sounded pitiful in his own ears.

"The - you don't have to go to the hospital," she said. He forced his gritty eyes open to look up at her. "You don't have to go to the hospital for the flu. Not unless it develops into something like pneumonia, or you get severely dehydrated."

"Stay here?"

"Yeah, you can stay here. There's nothing they can do for a virus except treat the symptoms, and I can manage that."

"Your shift -"

"I'll call in. Trust me, if you have it, I'm likely to be right behind you. Nobody wants me sharing this."

"'M'sorry."

"Shh, it's okay. Lemme go call. I'll be right back, with something to drink and some toast or something, and we'll tackle the fever first, go from there. Okay?"

He nodded, closing his eyes again, taking stock. Everything hurt, sure, but nothing was bleeding or broken. Maybe, if he could just get up, get moving. Get a shower . . .

*#*#*#*#*

Jax had the phone on speaker while she fixed a tray to take back upstairs.

"Captain Grover - whatca got, Nolan?"

"Hey, Captain. I'm gonna need to trade off my shift today."

"You okay?"

"I'm fine, sir - it's Steve. He seems to have been slammed by a virus. He's really bad . . . and since, um - well. I've already been exposed, so . . ."

"You been swapping bodily fluids, and now you keep those germs on that side of the island. Ain't nobody got time for an epidemic."

Jax had expected Lou to be understanding, but she still sighed in relief.

"Thanks, Captain, I -"

There was a crash from above.

"Nolan? What was -"

"Gotta go, Cap, I think Steve just took a header -"

Jax shoved the phone in her pocket and took the stairs two at a time. She hit the landing and skidded a couple of steps into the bedroom.

"Steve?!"

The bathroom door was ajar. Jax rushed to it, images of Steve unconscious and bleeding flitting through her mind.

"'M'kay," he said, looking up at her from the bathroom floor, where he sat, forearms on his knees, leaning back against the counter. The medicine cabinet was ajar and several bottles of pills were on the floor. "Got dizzy."

"What were - never mind."

A noise from her pocket caught her attention.

"Shit, sorry, Captain." She fished the phone out of her pocket.

"The hell? Do I need to send a bus?"

"No, sir, sorry. We're okay. I'll, ah - well, I might not be in for a couple of days. I'll log in and catch up on all my incident reports."

"Like I said, keep your germs to yourself, Nolan. And yell if you need anything. I'll drop soup on the porch, I'm not coming in there."

Jax chuckled as she ended the call. Hands on her hips, she looked down at Steve. He was scowling up at her, his eyes glazed with fever. She felt her smile turning soft as she crouched down next to him.

"Oh, babe," she sighed, as she reached out and pulled his shoulders gently toward her, until his forehead was resting on her collarbone. He groaned softly as she scritched her fingers through his sweaty hair.

"What were you trying to do, hunh?" she asked.

"Get Tylenol," he mumbled. "Shower. 'M'gross."

"Okay, well, I was getting you something for fever, along with some fluids and toast, remember?"

He grunted.

"So, that first, and then we'll discuss a shower."

"Bossy."

"Yeah, damn straight."

His soft sigh against her shoulder told her that he really, truly, didn't mind.

There was an actual, god-honest tray, perched neatly on his nightstand. Steve didn't even know he - _they_ \- had a tray. Underneath the haze of fever and the aching behind his eyes that just would not stop, he felt a satisfaction in the idea of her puttering around his - _their_ \- kitchen, poking in cabinets that he'd never bothered to use.

"It was in the cabinet with the cookie sheets," Jax said, following his line of vision. "It's - it's okay that I used it?"

"'Course," he mumbled around a piece of toast. It was spread with peanut butter, and honey, and it was the perfect combination for his throat. "This'ss good."

"Just toast," she said, shrugging. "Protein, carbs. Don't want your Tylenol coming back up. Make sure you drink all of the tea. Then you should be able to get in the shower without keeling over."

He wrapped his hand around the cup and nodded. It smelled wonderful, and the steam soothed the ache behind his eyes. Jax sat down on the edge of the bed, thermometer in hand. She tucked it carefully into his ear, chuckling when he scowled and made an instinctive, then aborted, movement to bat her hand away. A few seconds passed before he heard the beep, and then Jax was making that universal tsking sound and shaking her head.

"One-oh-two, Steve," she said. "No wonder you feel so awful."

Her hand settled cool on his cheek, and he leaned into it instinctively.

"You still want that shower?"

He nodded. Everything ached, and he longed for the pressure of hot water on his muscles.

"You're not going to spin out on me?"

He shook his head. Carefully, this time, so that the room didn't tilt. Jax grinned and took the cup from his hand, replacing it carefully on the tray. Her hand was extended to his, and he gripped around her forearm, felt her strong grip on his wrist. She'd squared her hips and planted her feet, and in his weakness and shakiness, he could feel the compact strength of her as she braced to pull him up from the bed. He stood, pausing a moment to make sure he had his bearings, and he felt her arm go around his waist. He looped an arm around her shoulders and rested his chin on the top of her head, just for a moment.

"You good?" she mumbled against his chest.

"Yeah," he sighed, a little reluctantly. He liked this; liked having her wrapped in his arms.

But he sensed he was on borrowed time, fortified by some calories and hydration, and the Tylenol kicking in just a bit. He made his way to the bathroom, pleased that he only had to reach out to steady himself against the wall once. As he'd thought, the water felt amazing on his restless, aching muscles, turned as hot as he dared and the spray on full blast. On a whim, he reached for Jax's shampoo. The smell of her hair had captivated him from her first day on the island, and her toiletries had eventually landed in his - _their_ \- bathroom, instead of the guest bath in the hall. It was still new, and amazing, and it made him happy on some deep level, the simple domesticity of her shampoo in his shower, her toothbrush in the cup next to his. The lather was richer than what he was used to, and left his hair feeling softer. It was comforting, somehow, the familiar scent and the rich suds.

A sudden chill that threatened to turn into a full-body shake caught him off-guard, and he rinsed quickly and stepped out of the shower. Teeth chattering, he grabbed a towel and wrapped around his waist, hastily brushing his teeth and swiping at his armpits with deodorant. By the time he shuffled, damp, into the bedroom, he could feel his muscles trembling.

"Hey, come're," Jax said, reaching for him and nudging him to the bed. He was shaking now, no denying it, cold and pain settling into his bones, the respite of the hot shower completely gone. She was deftly guiding his feet into his boxer briefs, and then with a gentle press against his shoulders, he was horizontal. He automatically lifted his hips for her to pull his shorts into place, and he would have spared a thought for feeling . . . not embarrassment, no, but maybe self-consciousness at his weakness, except . . . she was projecting such calm matter-of-factness about the whole thing. He recognized it; he'd seen it in the field.

"You're good a'this," he murmured. He wanted to say more, wanted to express his admiration of her skills, but . . . the pillow was so soft, and smelled so clean. She'd changed the sheets, somehow, while he was in the shower. He was surrounded by the clean smell of detergent, and now, by the smell of her shampoo. And it would be nice, it would, if he could just stop shaking. A crisp sheet and soft blanket were pulled into place over his shoulders. There was a rustle in the closet, and then the weight of a quilt - the one he'd come to think of as hers - draped over his body, tucked securely at his back as he curled onto his side in misery.

"I'm going to check your temp again," she said.

He let his eyes drift closed and stay closed, the light brush of her fingers against his cheek, tucking the thermometer into his ear was enough to keep him oriented.

"Holding steady," she said. "Tylenol is working."

"What if - is anybody else - Danny . . ." He was mumbling, rambling, but his brain was firing off warnings and cautions - what if he was sick because of something they'd been exposed to? What if it wasn't just a virus, it wasn't just him? Also, who would -

"Hey. I called Danny, told him you weren't coming in. No one else is sick, Steve. Look at me," she ordered gently.

He opened his dry, aching eyes, and met hers. She was crouched, eye level, next to the bed.

"No one else is sick," she continued. "It wasn't an exposure, the team is okay. They will be fine without you until you're better. Danny will text me - me, not you - if something urgent comes up."

"M'sorry," he said. "I just - if I just rest, a little - by th'safternoon, I -"

"Shhhh. Best case scenario, this is a twenty-four hour virus, and that means by this afternoon, maybe your fever will have broken and you can come downstairs. And rest on the sofa."

His groan sounded pathetic in his ears, and his eyes shut without his permission or control. The last thing he was aware of was the comforting weight of her hand on his stiff, sore neck, and then the inexorable pull of sleep.

*#*#*#*#*

Jax indulged in a quick shower while the sheets were in the wash, and a hastily improvised soup simmered on the stove. A muted ping on her phone alerted her to a text from Danny.

 _::DW::How's our boy?::_

 _::JN::Fever. Pulse, resp a little high, mild congestion. Typical of virus.::_

 _::DW::Need anything?_

 _::JN::Nope. All set. Thanks though.::_

 _::DW::Listen. Just - be careful. He gets feverish, I worry._

 _::JN::I know Danny._

 _::DW::I know you know, I just - you know._

 _::JN::Go do task force stuff. Got this under control._

She moved around the room as quietly as possible, setting her phone aside and fetching her glasses and laptop. With a sigh, she settled into the chair and started pecking her way through the back-log of HPD SWAT Medic incident reports.

*#*#*#*#*

 _He knew it was inevitable. They'd run out of water over thirty-six hours before. He'd discussed it with Nick, of course, weighed out the options - likely infection from the water versus certain life-threatening dehydration without it. And when the thirst had overcome them, they'd taken small, cautious sips and hoped for the best._

 _Hoped they could reach the new extraction point before their symptoms rendered them immobile._

 _They'd come close, close enough that they were going to make it, but only by dint of their SEAL training and his urging which, in the last hour, had bordered on cruel. He hated it; he knew his men hurt as badly as he did. The pain was all-encompassing; fever ache that settled and dug in to every single fiber of muscle and joint. Even his eyelashes hurt. There was no choice. They had to keep going. He forced leaden legs to keep moving, forced his spine to keep him upright despite the searing pain. Ignored the nausea and the cramping - there was nothing left to bring up or shit out now, anyway. The heat was suffocating, making him claw helplessly at his gear, but his fever-addled brain couldn't decide if stopping to take some of it off would help or not, so he just kept taking steps._

 _If they slowed down, they wouldn't make the extraction._

 _If they didn't make the extraction, they died._

Soft, cool hands pressed against his cheeks, followed by a rougher feel, a wet cloth. A weight was lifted from him, and cooler air drifted over his body. He shivered, but it helped. He needed to check on his team, affirm that they'd all made it to the extraction.

"Nick? Freddie," he mumbled, struggling to open his eyes and sit up.

"Hey, whoa. Steve, stand down."

The nurse called him by name? That was unusual . . . unless he was in Landstuhl. Again.

He blinked, sweat stinging his eyes, and struggled against the sheets wrapped around his legs. A cool hand wrapped around the back of his neck, another pressed against his chest - not restraining him, just enough to ground him.

"Steve, I need to know you're with me."

Bracing his heels against the mattress, he pushed himself to sit up against the headboard. A thumb stroked patiently against his jaw, another hand still pressed lightly against the center of his chest.

"Hey, you with me?"

He blinked until his eyes agreed to focus, expecting to see a nurse in familiar tech blue camo. Instead, he was staring into intense green eyes, magnified by reading glasses, and surrounded by a haphazard tumble of red curls.

"Jax," he sighed.

"You're safe."

"Yeah. Yeah, I . . . there was . . ."

"Hmm. An extraction point," she said softly. She sat on the edge of the bed, her hip pressing into his, and she blotted at his overheated, tacky face with the blissfully cool washcloth. "Your fever's breaking, that's why you're so hot."

He focused on her, willing away the lingering sensation of oppressive jungle, the smell of rotting vegetation still caught at the back off his throat.

"I'm - sorry, I'm . . ." He rubbed a shaking hand over his face, not entirely sure what he was trying to say, or ask.

"You're home," she said. "Okay? You're home."

And then her arms were wrapping around his shoulders, carefully, and pulling him close, tucking his head into the crook of her neck.

"Yeah," he murmured, closing his eyes and letting himself drift back toward sleep, trusting her to have his six. "Yeah . . . this is home."

*#*#*#*

Credit for any good bits go to the lovely and talented AriesTaurus who patiently and partially beta'd my frustrated and out-of-tune muse, and blame for the rest is all on me, because I got restless and impatient, stopped in the middle of editing, and just . . . slapped it up here.


	3. Notes Volume 1

Still?! I still get requests for the Jersey / Jax universe. I can not tell you how encouraging it is, to think that there are readers who are still interested, or new readers (!) still finding, reading, and enjoying this universe. I have some story lines in mind, some suggested by readers (there seems to be a lot of room to work with Jax's parents, which is intriguing to me, too!) and some just random thoughts that pop into my head.

This is one of those random ideas - my imagination was captured by the idea of notes that could be spotted, posted on various bulletin boards in the Jersey Shore to North Shore universe. Fluff and nonsense . . . enjoy.

Notes Spotted on the Tripler Medical Center Employee ChildCare Center Bulletin Board

Please do not leave unspecified voicemails on Commander McGarrett's cell phone. Routine phone messages can be misinterpreted as emergencies. Also, Commander McGarrett has been reminded that in the event of an actual emergency, Tripler has an established protocol which will be followed. An email to parents explaining the individuals seen flanking the building in tactical gear has been issued. The fruit basket in the breakroom is from the McGarrett family.

Crib Capacity waiver: A waiver is now on file in Annie and Billy McGarrett's folder; the twins are permitted to share a crib. This is especially to be noted at nap time.

New employees: Please remind the members of the Five-O task force that sign-in policies and secured weapon policies apply to each and every person entering the child care facility. Weapons lockers are available at the security desk. Their Five-O badges do not, in fact, exempt them from this policy. The chocolate assortment in the breakroom is from Officer Kono Kalakaua, with her apologies.

New employees: Tripler is a military hospital. We apologize for any confusion, however, the management would kindly remind you to refer to your employee handbook. While most of the employees in the child care facility are civilians, it is not uncommon for parents of the children to be active military or military police. Commander McGarrett has been reminded that all weapons, not just his firearm, are to be checked with security when dropping off Annie and Billy. Please be assured, this is not usually an issue in our facility. If you have further concerns, please speak with the director.

Note: Names added for permission for drop-off, pick-up, or brief visits have been added to the file for Annie and Billy McGarrett. In addition to the children's parents, are the following: Danny and Rachel Williams, Lou and Renee Grover, Malia Waincroft, Chin Ho Kelly, Kono Kalakaua, and Brian Caviness. For quick reference, please leave this notice posted near the sign-in sheet.

IMPORTANT: Please just do not call Commander McGarrett at all. Routine messages are too easily misinterpreted. Instead, if Jax Nolan McGarrett is unavailable to be called or paged from the emergency department, please call Detective Williams' cell phone with any information or requests, and he will relay information to Commander McGarrett. The malasadas and coffee service in the break room are courtesy of Commander McGarrett, with the request not to mention this morning's incident to Jax McGarrett.

IMPORTANT UPDATE regarding the McGarrett twins: The waiver which permitted the twins to share a crib during nap time has expired. Please note that if the twins are placed in the same crib, it is possible for one to use the other to reach the top of the crib railings. Placing them in adjacent cribs is advisable. Ensure line of sight for both infants (remove crib bolster as needed).

Reminder: Given the nature of our facility's military personnel, it is advisable to have parents and guardians double check bags, backpacks, etc, at drop off. It is easy to confuse a tactical medical gear bag, for example, with a diaper bag fashioned of a kevlar-like fabric. Please be assured that the contents of the bag in question were field medical supplies, not weaponry or biological samples, despite the lettering in Hebrew and several other non-English languages. The lasagne and salad in the breakroom is from Jax McGarrett.


End file.
